Twins Of Fire
by Raychel945
Summary: Hiccup and his sister, through the years. From Alvin to Dagur, fighting the Red Death, and various other mishaps! How will it end? HiccupxAstrid, OCxTuffnut, SnotloutxHeather, FishlegsxRuffnut, OCxGustav, ValkaxStoick.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own How To Train Your Dragon. All rights go to Cressida Cowell and Dreamworks Animation. I have translated ordinary English words to Icelandic for the purpose of this fanfic. They will be put as old Norse, the language the Berkians would have first used.**

 **Hiccup=Hiksti**

 **Skila=Deliver**

 **Karl-Herra=Male Sire**

 **Kennari=Teacher**

 **Skuldabref=Bond**

 **Vinur=Friend**

 **Please Enjoy! Remember words in Italic and Bold are narrated, words in Italic are emphasizing, and normal is... well normal.**

At night the Isle of Berk looked pretty peaceful. As peaceful as you could get when the buildings and houses stored weapons and Vikings and mead. There was no more dangerous mix of the three. And from the shouts, slurs, and assorted crashes they'd been mixed up. The sounds emanated from the largest building in the village, the Mead Hall. It stood on an elevated position relevant to the rest of the village, and light shone from within, blinding you before showing you the sight of a mob of angry Vikings brandishing their weapons. A tall, large red-headed hulk of a man stood at the fore-front of the mob, talking loudly to them. Stoick the Vast was his name, and he was Chief of the tribe of Berk. He brandished a battle axe and roared at the mob so loudly that no one heard the scuffle on the large sloping roof, and if they did they immediately dismissed it as unimportant.

Outside however the scuffle was more than a bit important. If you looked past the glaring light of the torches you could make out two figures on the side of the Hall. One was hanging awkwardly off a ledge on the building and the other was reaching down towards the first. Both were lean and lithe, and if you looked closely you could see that they didn't resemble any typical Viking whatsoever. The figure on the roof hauled up the other person, and they swarmed up the sloping roof as easily as a spider. The wooden shingles made no sound underneath their calloused hands and boarskin and rabbit fur boots, as they climbed steadily towards a window. As they reached it, the moon came out and you could easily distinguish one from the other. It was a boy and a girl, and the only difference between them was the length of their hair and the visible colour. The boy had reddish hair, several shades darker than his father's and slightly brown in places. The girl's hair was auburn, brownish, and thick and healthy. Her hair was braided into five braids which formed one big braid at the back. They had the look of twins and the same singlemindedness of twins when something they mutually want is close at hand. The girl slipped in the window and dangled from there, bracing her feet against the sloping roof and slipping onto a broad wooden beam with the ease and grace of someone who spent a lot of time climbing. The boy followed not long after, gangly rather than graceful, and he grinned a toothy, dorky grin at his sister, who responded by smirking. They watched the crowd below, unobserved and stayed there listening to the decisions made by the adults with a mixture of dismay, anger and fear. When eventually the crowd departed as the moon shone high above the world, the children again slipped out as easily as they had climbed and slithered down the hill towards an open plan building just off the center of the village.

They slipped into a back room which was partitioned into three areas, the first a mutual work area with two desks covered in parchment and models and prototypes and scraps of metal that can only come from a blacksmiths forge. The other two area were sleeping spaces, beds pushed close by each other separated by only the curtain, as the twins felt a need for nearness. The pair were at the stage where one minute you could be as graceful as a swan and the next as awkward as a newborn lamb finding its feet. The boy pulled off a sheepskin vest and set it on his chair. There was silence between them until the girl broke it.

"Doesn't Dad realise how ridiculous it is to go searching for the nest only two months after they got back? They lost three longboats! And twelve warriors." She sighed, tears springing unbidden to her eyes as she recalled the now parentless children, some orphans some not, who would have to take up their parents slack, now they were dead. Her brother crossed the room, and hugged her.

"It'll stop someday I promise, Sky." He said patting her back awkwardly, and she held tight, resting her head on his bony shoulder.

"Yeah, but when Hiccup? You know how stubborn Dad is, being a typical Viking and all, but when? And how many people and ships will we lose until it does end if ever!" Hiccup stared at the wall and sighed.

"I don't know. I wish I did, but I don't. However there isn't much we can do." He replied trying to be reassuring and only slightly succeeding. Sky smiled at her twin, and pulled back her curtain to head to bed. Her brother did the same, and they settled down for the night.

"Out of bed, ya lazy louts! Get yer selves out here!" Was the cheerful wakeup call they received, and the twins, who'd been up for an hour already threw each other a look, and then simultaneously shouted back.

"Shut up Gobber!" Chuckling emanated from the other side of the curtain, and they couldn't help grinning themselves. Closing up the charcoal sketches and various books they made their way out to the heart of the forge, where a one-legged, one-armed man stood there with a stone tooth protruding from the left of his jaw. He grinned at them, and then turned back to lighting the fire in the forge, muttering just loud enough to be heard about "lazy brats who couldn't do work for their own poor teacher". Hiccup smiled at Sky, and gathered up some metal ores, and a few sheets of metal in varying thickness that could be used to to shape tools. Sky grabbed the broom and swept scraps of metal towards the metal pile, where they would be remelted and smithed again.

"If you keep complaining Gobber, you're going to sound a lot older than eight and forty years." She said, smirking as Gobber turned around with a yelp.

"And who would possibly think tha'?" He retorted thumping her back lightly as he passed.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe the whole village if you get any louder." Was Hiccup's response, and the twins fist-bumped each other as Gobber pretended to look insulted. The whole scenario was so easy and unawkward that a young shieldmaiden there for a errand felt awkward intruding on the situation. However, Astrid Hofferson being Astrid Hofferson she plunked her axe down on the bench for repairs and laid a sword next to it.

"Gobber? My parents need the sword reforging, and my axe needs re-sharpening." Gobber nodded, his bright and cheery countenance giving a small light to Astrid's spirit's.

"Aye, I got a bit to do, but Hiccup will reforge ya sword, and I'm sure Sky can sharpen your axe." He said, and turned his attention to a pile of axes, sword and assorted weaponry that required his attention. Without a word Sky stepped up to Astrid, staring her down deliberately as she took the axe and sword, the blond stared back just as deliberately in a power-play between them. They mutually broke the stare-down out of respect for their respective jobs. In the corner by the pedal-grinder Hiccup sighed. Sky and Astrid had been at odds with each other since Astrid became a shield-maiden. He was often caught in between and had just learnt to go with it. His sister was an authority on women and everything in the village. Perceptive and wily, Sky was as harmless as a Deadly Nadder, and just as dangerous when angered. So he sighed when she handed him the sword to reforge, and settled herself to sharpening the axe. As the sun rose higher over Berk's hills, more people started to bustle around ready for another day's work. The fishermen headed out to the docks laughing and slapping each on the back with their nets, and the timber workers headed to the other side of Berk for another week's work away from their families. Gradually the noise built up to a medium level hum of activity with various clanking, clucking and other assorted noises popping up in between. Hiccup finished shaping the sword and cooled it, checking for impurities before handing it to Astrid. She grabbed a small coin bag and tossed it to him, and grabbed her newly sharpened axe and headed off.

Gobber sighed, knowing without looking that Hiccup would be staring after her with a dreamy look on his face, just as he knew that the hiss that followed soon after was from Sky throwing a pebble at him. The two thirteen year olds were funny in that respect, and he loved them almost as much as if they were his own. He understood them fairly well, just as he understood their father. Being the children of Stoick the Vast was hard enough, but when he was Chief, and one of the biggest, brutal dangerous Vikings on Berk, and his kids were practically fishbone's, well... that was a pretty huge expectation that was placed on their shoulders. He stopped his mental musing long enough for Stoick himself to get his attention.

"Gobber. I need those swords ready by tomorrow." It was a curt order, placed by a man who was anxious if you looked closely. Gobber simply nodded.

"Aye, they'll be ready. How many ships are ya takin' this time?"

"Six. Gunder installed a catapult on one. It should be more than enough to deal with those foul beasts." Gobber nodded knowingly and waved his peg-leg to the other two. Eight years of working in the forge had commands ingrained in their heads, and they automatically took up a line, heating the weapons, cooling and sharpening and other respective actions. Stoick nodded approvingly before heading off to the storehouses to check the supplies. Devastating Winter was only six months away, and he didn't want his village to be starving from the raids and missions to find the nest. Inwardly, however he was silently approving the remarkable speed with which his children went to their teacher's aid. They were awkward and gangly, and their ideas often spelled disaster for the village, he was hoping that nothing would happen while he was away on the search. Mentally, he made a note to leave Spitelout, his brother, in charge with Gobber as his second-in-command. Spitelout was more than able to handle a couple of errant children, even the Thorston twins avoided him. He made his way to the otherside of the village with a lighter head about leaving.

About midday, Gobber took a break with his two young apprentices, knowing that Hiccup would go to help Bucket and Mulch with fishing, and that Sky was needed by the timber workers. Ever since she was six, she would go in Gothi's place everyday to check for injuries, and bring lunch to the workers. It saved the wives and sisters the trouble of making their way around the island, so that they could go about repairing sails, cooking lunches and tending the fish catch. He sighed as he watched them go, relieved that they'd been getting better over the years. They pile of weapons as seriously diminished, and he was happy to let them go take a break.

Sky made her way through the village to the market, winding her way through the groups of people as she made her way to Phlemga the Fierce. The Botanist stood there proudly surveying the people buying her crops. She was the chief farmer on Berk, and no one took their job more seriously than she. Astrid's mother regarded the youngest Haddock with somewhat of a frown. Sweat and grease marred her face from the work she'd done. Despite the marks though, she looked like she'd fought and won a battle, and Phlemga felt a sliver of pride course through her. The girl was more than reliable, and never complained when it came to carrying the food and nescessary tools for healing over the island for the workers. She gave Sky a gruff smile as she handed her the sack with the food. Sky shouldered it and weaved her way through the houses as she headed west to the forest. The birds and wildlife on Berk made their presence known, used to the young girl who walked among them with a smile. The sun shone brightly that day, and as it glittered through the trees it reflected off her face, and she smiled as she traipsed through bracken and moss. The path to the workers huts was on a well-beaten track, and she preferred to walk through the trees. A deer stepped daintily across a log, and she nodded to it as she passed by. The trek was long, and as she passed by a fast running stream, instead of walking across it on the tree, she waded through it drinking from it as she went. Eventually, she started hearing the sounds of trees being felled, and grunts from hard-working men and women. She cleared the bushes just in time to Gringa Noftsdottir, the forewoman, pull a young man to the side and berate him for cutting down a medium sized sapling.

She made her way across to where the worker were resting, and one of them seeing her stood up to greet her. Koldon Treeburn grinned as he gave her shoulder a hefty punch, sending her violently reeling before she kicked his shin.

"Skila Valhall Haddock! Yer late!" He boomed alerting the others to her appearance, and those still working paused and made their way over after securing their work. Sky grinned, and handed out food to the hungry workers, grinning as they took brown bread, and yak cheese with smoked deer.

"Of course I'm late!"She retorted. "Who on Midgard would want to be early to see your face?" Laughter bounded around the clearing, and Koldon grinned heartily as he took his own portion.

"Ever the lady I see." He smirked, and Gringa hit him as grabbed her meal and held out a bleeding wrist. Skila removed the splinters, and bandaged it as she smiled.

"I'm a Viking, what d'ye expect." The workers snorted with laughter, and Gringa mock-glared at them in Skila's defence.

"A Viking? You! More like a sapling!" Koldon grinned as he let her clean the cut on his forehead. She jabbed his stomach with her fist as she replied.

"Yes! And trees have been around longer than Vikings and will stay for years afterwards." There were many nods, and Gringa smiled.

"Ye can't argue with that logic, Koldon." She said in her rough voice. There were nods, and conversation sprung up as Sky moved among them, tending to various injuries. One of them stood up, and embraced her. Morg Headsplitter hugged her tightly, and then pulled away letting her check the bandages on his hands. He looked anxious for a second, and then showed her where new splinters had lodged in. Skila shook her head and smiled.

"If you keep getting splinters, how are you going to hold your baby?" She rhetorically asked, and Morg shrugged.

"Tell tha' to the trees." He said, and Skila smiled again. Morg was paired up with Aiver the Thrasher, and he lived up to his name. Last month he'd cut down a tree so brutally, that when it toppled splinters flew everywhere and had lodged in Morg's hands and belly, as well as cutting Aiver in the face. His ear still bled from time to time which Sky tended to. Morg leaned close and conspiratably whispered in Sky's ear.

"How's me wife and baby?" And Sky found herself grinning. Nela was heavily pregnant and due anytime soon, and Gothi was practically living in Morg's house in preparation for the birth.

"Nothing's wrong so far. If all goes well you should have a baby fairly soon. I'll come get you if she goes into labour. Morg grinned, and patted Skila's shoulder. As she headed out of the clearing, she waved a hand over her shoulder, and silently weaved her way through the forest, and back to the village. She hoped that Hiccup had had some luck with Bucket and Mulch.

Hiccup had found himself stuck on gutting duty for the duration of his lunch break, and he happily gnawed on his lunch as he repeated the same old motions for gutting fish after fish. Bucket and Mulch had had some good luck with their fishing, and a fairly large catch had been hauled in, and he found himself with three other Vikings gutting the assortment of salmon, haddock, halibut, eel and cod. His mind wandered as usual with repetitive work, and despite the quick movements with which he worked, his mind was far far away from fish at the docks. Hiccup tended to be incredibly inventive, and so his mind was now working on things that could help cut trees or plant crops, although Astrid's mother would never let him anywhere near her beloved greenhouse. He was completely oblivious to the conversation around him, centered on the Thorston twins recent destruction of a chicken coop near the Backbreaker place. It was as well Narkon was away cutting timber otherwise he'd be hunting down Ruffnut and Tuffnut and giving them a thrashing, which would spark up another argument between Bloodnut Thorston and Narkon Backbreaker and then Stoick would have to sort them out.

 **Phew, that was my first chapter in a while. Hope you enjoy! Please send reviews! It helps my muse. Enjoy!**


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON! CRESSIDA COWELL AND DREAMWORKS ANIMATION DO! I wish I did though. Just sayin.**

 **Here is the translation of words that I provide. If I add any songs or words in, I will include them at the bottom of this chapter. Thanks guys! You're all awesome!**

 **Hiccup=Hiksti**

 **Skila=Deliver**

 **Karl-Herra=Male Sire**

 **Kennari=Teacher**

 **Skuldabref=Bond**

 **Vinur=Friend**

Berk lay far up North. Not so up North that it froze every day. It was colder than most other inhabited islands, and the mornings were chilly even in the middle of Summer. In the middle of Summer however, the sun never really set, and despite the soft glow that it provided for a whole three months it was often cold. Frost rose in the air glowing gently, and the night's were never fully dark. For a quarter year Berk was stuck between sunset and full day. The sunrises were still absolutely glorious, and despite the snow that would come over night, settling gently on the land like a crunchy blanket it was never annoying for the snow would melt when the sun rose leaving dewy plants to greet the morning light. The rocky outcrops that surrounded Berk were more often than not liberally dusted in a snowy cover that melted at dawn. It was currently grey and slowly turning light and at this time of morning the outcrops were more often than not glowing eerily, shining in the grey light before turning a soft gold. Brisk winds blew at this time and played with the snow sending it cascading down to the ocean in a soft tumble of light. It lasted no more than ten minutes by the sand watch and was stunning to witness, but for the Berk watch who's shifts frequently changed so everyone could see it, it was common to them. Even more common to them was the shadowy figure of a young woman climbing up a hill. She was barely seen at a distance but the only bare face of the peak was facing South, and so she was less likely to slide to her death. The sentries on watch that morning were a young trainee and an older man. Fourteen year old Astrid Hofferson stood watching the figure with a scowl on her face. While a casual passer-by might associate it with hatred for the figure, it was simply because the wind was very strong and was blowing right into her face. Her axe was loosely gripped in her right hand and the left was used to shield her eyes somewhat. She checked the position of the shadows and how far the figure was up on the mountain.

"She's a bit late today. She'll miss it." She said, her tone perfectly neutral. Her companion chuckled and slapped a hefty hand on her shoulder.

"She wants to see it, so she will see it. Don't you underestimate her, Astrid me-lass. When she wants something she gets it." He laughed quietly in the cold air, and Astrid continued her scan forgetting about the girl up the mountain. She turned and faced the ocean, and scanned it at intermittent places searching for a ship sail or dragon, anything to signal danger. She had nearly completed her check when she caught a glimpse of gold striking the very tops of the furthest outcrop. Astrid hurriedly completed her scan, and turned to look at the mountain. She scanned the base and all the way up and saw the object of her scrutiny standing at the very top. The wind was still blowing strong and despite her casual dislike for the woman in question, she felt a sliver of respect for the way the lithe, wraith-like girl stood at the top of the mountain in the bracing wind. A small smile crossed her face, and she grudgingly acknowledged the tenacity and determination of her fellow teenager. She knew that she would never be able to do it. She'd never had a very good head for heights and had always clung to something. Not only that but the winds would be incredibly strong up there, Stoick himself never ventured up there at any time, and if something happened to her she would be blown away like a frail little bird and no one would know. Astrid sighed and turned back to watch the ocean turn gold. She loved the sight she saw but never understood how Skila could undertake it every single morning of the Summer. In truth she never understood anything the girl did.

Skila stood triumphantly at the very top of Ghïleé's Peak, holding onto the rocks with all the strength in her young hands. Beads of perspiration were blown away by the bracing cold air and she laughed loudly, and happily when she realised she was just in time to witness the sunrise. It slowly crept over the horizon and she felt the warmth touch her face gently, settling on her lightly and warming her against the wind. The snow was ruffled up by the breeze turning to sparkling gold that was hastily blown away, and as the sun touched the tops of the outcrops, it glistened and shone in a spectacular way. Silver flecks glittered over the rocks and she watched as they shone brightly. Her breath caught in her throat and she simply stared at the spectacular sight that assaulted her eyes. It was such a cacophony of colour in such a pleasing way and she never failed to be utterly blown away by how beautiful it was. The ocean sparkled, and the foamy waves crashed on the shores turned gold with flecks of silver by the sun's rays. It was phantasmagorical and utterly gorgeous. Little did she realise the beautiful figure she, herself made. Auburn tresses held lightly by a shell comb were blown back, red interwoven with gold and brown. A shapely face was blessed with sharp cheekbones and a soft jaw. Peachy cheeks set off her pale face, and her green eyes glittered, big and beautiful. Small lips like a rosebud were spread in a wide grin from sheer exuberance and she stood there, small and slender like a sapling. Tiny hands gripped the rocks with long fingers suited to playing the few instruments that Vikings favoured, and callouses marked them along with a few burns barely noticeable in the sunrise that marked her as a blacksmith's apprentice. She stared at the beautiful sight before her and smiled widely. The sun was now fully risen and the spectacular event was over, but the views were still incredible. She looked down on the town and saw people getting up and about. Phlegma to her farm going about her chores, the watch was changing, Gobber was busy starting up the forge, and Stoick was walking about inspecting the entire town, a proprietary air to him. She sighed not wanting to leave but as if on cue she felt the rocks beneath her hands dampen slightly as the warmth turned snow to water. In a few moments the top of the mount would be perilous, and she turned to leave, sliding down very carefully amongst the now treacherous rocks. Nimble fingers found hold and her feet moved as fast as her wandering thoughts. Instinct drew her low to the ground and she frowned when she reached Gothi's place, set halfway up the mount. Her hair was dirty and wet as it would be every morning and she shrugged heading to knock at the Elder's door.

Gothi opened the door, beckoning her in with a gnarled old hand, and she bowed politely to her before entering. A cat stood guard by the fire, staring into her eyes with a remarkable intelligence matched only by the look in Gothi's eyes. The sweet scent of herbal teas, potions and various remedies pervaded the hut. Spices lay in open jars to air, and herbs and vegetables were hung in various places. Nut-brown furniture was scattered haphazardly around creating a space that seemed homey and very lived in for the one woman and her cat. The fire crackled cheerily and she was drawn to it, letting the glow of the fire play over her features, and the warmth chase away the chill in her bones. She turned to Gothi as the she was handed a cup of herbal tea, and they settled comfortably into the two chairs by the fire as they sipped contentedly. The Forest cat settled by the hearth at Gothi's feet and purred reassuringly at her. Gothi's sandbox stood near as ever, and in it Skila read the welcome runes that Gothi drew every morning. Ever since she'd started climbing the mount it had been a tradition to drink herbal tea every morning after she nearly froze and injured herself coming back down the mount. Gothi herself had shown her the best way to climb the mount and how what time was best, and the rest as they say was history. No words needed to be exchanged in the comfortable companionship they found in each other, and after drinking their teas, both rose simultaneously to start preparing more remedies. It would be an hour by the sand watch before the townspeople fully rose, and even then most would be indoors or at the Mead Hall. Her own household would be fully risen, Hiccup drawing or writing, and Stoick going about his chiefly duties. She pulled out her small satchel and handed Gothi some of her and Hiccup's old clothes and various rags. Together they boiled them and hot water and used a strong smelling soap to whiten them. They tore them into strips of various lengths and neatly settled them in the cupboard, wrapped in leather. When the sun hit the fireplace, Skila smiled at Gothi and left the hut, satisfied her stock was secure. She jogged lightly down the mountain and came up behind the farms, striding by with a satisfied air. Phlemga smiled nodding at her from her farm close to the village, and Astrid who was walking to the chicken fence, nodded at her slightly. Skila smiled at her, still exuberant from her beautiful morning. The first Summer day was here and it mattered not that Astrid had hurt her, the world was beautiful.

She walked into her house with a satisfied air, and noticed the messiness already accumulating. Various chairs were moved and scattered to make it impossible to walk, and the fire was dwindling, casting shadows over the walls. It would soon be extinguished. The few sconces were flickering gently and she checked the levels of pitch noting how empty they were. From the cordoned off cooking area she smelt a delicious breakfast beginning. It would be nothing more than the stew she'd made from the brace of ptarmigan their father had caught, and she headed over to the table to wait, moving chairs and various axes and objects out of the way. No sooner had she sat down than Hiccup moved through the door bearing two bowls of stew, one half full, the other full and steaming. Skila sighed appreciatively, nodding her greetings to her older brother, and turning to sit cross-legged on the bench. She dug into the stew, satisfying her rumbling stomach, and sighed contentedly as Hiccup pulled back her hair and began cleaning it and braiding it. Their morning ritual calmed her, and she finished her stew, and handed Hiccup the leather tie. He finished her hair and gave it a nod before standing. The mutual silence was broken by Stoick entering the door. By entering I mean he threw it open and lumbered in with the force of a bear. He settled his considerable bulk in the largest of the three chairs around the fireplace, and stared broodingly into the fire before gathering up some wood to carve. Skila silently left his bowl of stew on the table, and slipped out the door, Hiccup gathering several items and following her. They silently trudged down the path to Gobber's forge and slipped in. The blacksmith stood up smiling cheerily.

"There ye are! I was wonderin when ye'd be in! Ye're late as it is!" Hiccup grinned toothily.

"Yeahhhh, well maybeee our breakfast was a bit, oohhh too important for work. Wouldn't you say so Skila?" He said turning towards his sister. Skila rolled her eyes.

"Definitely. Infinitely better than this company." She said and went to the axe pile to sharpen them. Hiccup followed her grabbing a file and heading to the maces. They went about their respective jobs with a speed that belied their clumsiness and hinted only at grace. It never ceased to amaze Gobber how they could trip over thin air, and craft high quality weapons in the same day. It certainly never ceased to amaze him that Hiccup could half drown himself accidentally and still catch a large net full of fish, or that Skila could burn herself twice in a day and still help Gothi with the village births, when both were only twelve. He smiled and went about sorting the ores from rocks. He knew instantly which ones to use from the weight, feel, and shape. He'd taught them both how to do it but at the same time preferred to do it himself. He hummed to himself happily as he checked the ores and then took the lesser ores for the nails. As he set up his tools, he felt two presences either side of him take on the jobs required. As he hummed the song he felt rather than heard the two of them pick up the harmonies. Gobber wasn't necessarily the best of singers, but on Berk he had a fine voice, but refused to sing unless drunk. Therefore it was with some wonder that whenever Gobber made nails the villagers would peek in and skulk around to listen to them. If there was one thing the Haddock twins could do right it was singing. It was an old blacksmith's tune, which had been handed down from Master to Apprentice, but which everyone in the village knew. Despite the familiarity of the song, everyone who knew anything never sung along when those three were singing. Gobber's thick brogue with Skila's clear, high voice, and Hiccup's rusty tenor combined to make a beautiful tune. A cluster of young children hung around the stall as they stood there making nails.

Temperament, temperament, brann, kulde

Luktet jern, la det ulme

Sett formene og pumpe brannen

Greppe bakkene, ta tak i rørene

Få brannen fint og varmt

Sett jernet i tunna

Hell metall gjennom masken

La rørene stå i strømmen

I vannet la den fuktig

Temperament, temperament, brann kald

Luktet jern la det ulme

Tynn metall streiken det raskt

Dypp i så la det sitte

Platt dryg hodet

Pek tuppen

Varme den opp før det lyser

La det grå og da vil du vite

Skarp det må være

Sterk det holder

Binde, piercing holde tak

Det være seg jern være seg gull

Polera det før det lyser

Even as the last notes of the song wound around them, they continued making nails. The sharp pieces of metal were used for almost everything, and so it was often required that they make several batches. In fact at least half of the iron import on Berk went into nails. Nails were easy to make and so instead of strips of metal on their casks and barrels, they nailed them instead. The iron import might have been expensive, but for the gold vein in the mountains around Berk. Gobber in his spare time would also make coinage, but only from the purest gold. The rest went to the other islands for iron, copper, and silver. Berk wasn't exactly gold rich, but the finger width coins were stamped with the Berk crest and made official in that way. Gold coins were only used for the purchase of housing or ships, or in dowries. Copper coins were the most common form of coinage. The exchange rate was seventy copper coins to one gold. Copper was a very common import, and easily tradable. But Gobber was the official coin master, and only the chief could have coins made. In this way Berk was the second most advanced island civilisation after the Berserkers. It was one of the reasons they were able to import goods, instead of raiding down south. Raids were treacherous, and despite the dragon risk up here, you were more likely to die or lose a limb in a raid rather than to a dragon. Although a few people were the exception like Gobber who had lost a leg and an arm to dragons, but made do. A cheerful man by nature he took up blacksmithing and got on with his life, never complaining about the hard work, and then Hiccup and Skila came along. Blacksmithing was dangerous work, and they had only passed their sixth winter when they were fobbed on him. Gobber knew that Stoick found them particularly hard to deal with, mainly because of their mother's memory but they were also accident-prone. Most kids at six were running around playing or getting into mischief, but those two simply went straight to tripping over everything. In the first four years of their apprenticeship to him, they'd burned themselves nearly everywhere, burned twenty-two buildings, sunk twelve ships with various means, and broken countless weapons. Then they'd turned ten, and all the other children had tried several trades, and miraculously they'd become better. By the time they'd hit twelve, they had learnt nearly everything Gobber could teach them, and could forge half as fast as him. Hiccup had begun learning how to fish and cook, and Skila had begun healing with Gothi. They'd hit the growing years and became lanky and tall, and by their fourteenth winter they were blossoming. Hiccup had learnt to heal with Skila, and then given up, and Skila had taken up helping Phlegma with her farm stall.

For such clumsy people it was a wonder that they weren't absolutely useless. But as soon as they'd learnt as much of their primary trade as they could Gobber had told them to branch out. Naturally curious, and filled with a burning desire to learn they'd taken well to most of the trades they'd chosen. Sensibly they'd elected to ignore shipbuilding, woodcutting and mining as they'd lacked the necessary muscle. Aside from blacksmithing they'd done hunting, fishing, farming, trading, healing, carving, ceremony officiating, baking, rune translation, furniture making, and building. The more naturally intuitive of the two, Skila had taken to healing, and farming like a duck to water. Hiccup was the more creative of them and had taken a liking to rune translation, carving, and furniture building. Both were highly intelligent and finished the rest of the trades with full honours. Despite being good at multiple things, they were still the clumsiest and least-liked children in the village. Which was saying something considering all the mischief the Thorston twins got up to.

As the Winter's had passed, they'd proved useful to the village, but for all their worth, it was the mistakes they made that were the most remembered. Despite the grumbles about them, they were still accepted as good workers, and Skila was a common presence beside Gothi, whenever the Elder was needed. She was especially needed in midwifery, simply because though most of the village women knew how to handle labour, newly married women somehow found it much easier if they had the slender young woman beside them, staring steadily at them. After the babies were born Gothi would bless the children, and then see to the throbbing hand of her apprentice. Even the older women appreciated the calm determination of the fifteen year old, for Skila had been attending births since she'd hit her feminine cycles. It had been Mrs Thorston's latest birth, and Gothi had needed an attendant after a bad cycle of gout had hit her. Twelve year old Skila had walked into the birthing room filled with widows and mother's, for Mrs Thorston was well known and well-liked despite her children. The twelve-year old had walked into the middle of a harsh labour, and had literally staggered when she saw the blood staining the sheets. The eyes of every single woman in the room were fixed upon her, and she quickly set herself upright and made her way to the woman in labour. Apart from the heavy panting of the expectant mother all was silent. First time midwives often fainted when they saw the first birth, but most midwives were not unmarried women, especially teenagers, which Skila barely was. Mrs Thorston reached a hand out for Skila to hold, and the teen grabbed it immediately and then settled herself into a crouch, wincing as the labour progressed and the screaming hit her ears. She missed the approving looks of the women in the room. And by the end of the birth, she had her first broken finger, something everyone missed until Gothi set it, and she had to walk around with her hand in a bind. Mrs Thorston apologised profusely, but Skila shrugged it off with the inborn uncaring attitude of someone who knows that it was a good price to pay. So the word got around that Skila Haddock was a good midwife. Stoick was pleased with his daughter, and told her it was a good profession. He was in such a good mood that he laughed when she sarcastically held up her finger and told him the rewards outweighed the pain.

Hiccup was appreciated more for his idea of sturdy furniture. Unlike the grotesque almost throne-like chairs that were common around Berk, he had more slim designs that were elegant. He was an excellent carver with a steady hand and a fruitful mind. The first chair he made had looked deceptively thin, and far too sleek to be a chair, and even Skila had been reluctant to sit in it. It was warily tested by Fishlegs, who found it accommodated his bulk very well, and then Stoick sat in it. It was a gorgeous piece of furniture, wide-set for the larger Berkian, and with an almost reclining back that was covered in wool padding. Runes, lines, swirls and circles were carved all over the chair, some so thin they were barely there, but it was absolutely stunning. His runework was impeccable, and so if he ever was found unsuitable to be Chief of Berk, there was no doubt he would take over Gobber and do furniture making in his spare time. Because they were so good at being rightfully creative it was the source of wonder as to why they would make the most ridiculous things. It seemed to be such a waste of resources, even if some of them did work.


End file.
